Partnership
by prospectkiss
Summary: "Goodbye empty bottles and empty promises and empty life." The start of Philanthropy and the beginning of a friendship between a bitter soldier and a guilt-ridden engineer. Written in 2009. Story is unfinished.
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's_**_ **Notes: **_This story resulted from my brief time in the _Metal Gear _fandom. It was my first attempt at a multi-chapter stroy, though this first part holds up well as a stand-alone story. I had intended to examine how Snake and Otacon's friendship develops, and eventually becomes something more. Written in 2009, around when _Metal Gear Solid 4_ was released.

* * *

_Philanthropy – Alaska – Week 2, Day 6_

The black cords slithered across the floor, long and sinuous and eager to snare the unwary. They reluctantly joined up at the folding table in the corner, prongs snapping and fighting for space at the wall of laptops and monitors. Oblivious to their battle, Hal hunched over one particular screen, staring intently.

"Sna- er, Dave, I think I found something here." He clicked the mouse and opened a few more windows, deftly hacking through firewalls and concealing his presence, careful to leave no trace of his intrusion.

Three weeks ago Hal had returned to the stark Alaskan wasteland, came back to the spacious cabin that the soldier called home. He dimly remembered staying the night here after the escape from Shadow Moses, but that memory was blurred under the ordeal's exhaustion and devastation and discoveries that left him anxious and numb. Of course he'd been numb in a more insistent way from the snowmobile ride, too, with tiny icicles hanging from his gloves when he pried his fingers off Snake's waist.

This time he had the chance to learn the layout of the house: how to navigate from the guest room to the bathroom, find his way around the kitchen in the middle of the night, even to carefully step across the workout room without stumbling into equipment and stubbing his toes. Despite its size, the dark wooden walls and abundant blankets gave the cabin an almost cozy feel. The home reflected a warmer side of the soldier, made it easier for Hal to remember that he too was human, that he wasn't just the code name and medals and myths.

He had set up his fortress of electronics in the back corner of the living room. The fireplace across the room kept him warm without overheating his equipment, and the window next to the makeshift desk displayed an endless swirl of white, the never-ceasing Alaskan snowstorms somehow comforting; it was the kind of view he could stare into for hours, not really seeing, letting his mind work quietly in the background. Outside, the wind howled as it whipped up flurries of snow.

"What'd you find?" The rough voice answered from somewhere behind him. Hal gestured absently, absorbed in the data, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder.

"Aaah! Geez, Dave, don't scare me like that!"

He looked up at the soldier, his – friend? roommate? partner? – _Yes, partner now_, he thought– and tried to glare; all he managed was something between startled and indignant.

Dave stared impassively at him, but Hal noticed the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes. Hal suspected the soldier was amused, maybe even _proud_, that he had startled him. _At least he's not grabbing me by my jacket and shoving me against the wall anymore. I don't need another lecture on how to be more aware of my surroundings._

He had been nervous at first, coming here and seeing Dave again. Three months lay between the last time they had seen each other, after the endless government briefings and nondisclosure agreements and quiet compensation. Three months and three thousand miles; New York had seemed the obvious place to go if he was interested in studying people. But the crowds just reminded him of how alone he was, how so few people could understand the nightmares he suffered, and the faces on the street kept morphing into ones of pain and death each time he thought about Metal Gear. Yet the interest in people, the bright new love for them, the need to _protect_ them, burned fiercely in his soul. Finally, he had found his courage and reached out to the only man he felt he could trust.

During the long trip back, he'd had half a notion that Dave would take one look at him, change his mind about Philanthropy, and chase him back to the Fairfield airport. He was keenly aware that Dave was less than friendly at the best of times, and he was worried about how much unhappier the soldier had become after the falling out with that soldier girl.

He hated to admit it, but it was probably because of that broken relationship that Dave had even entertained Hal's idea. He wondered if Dave only accepted his offer of partnership just to fill the void left by the spunky redhead.

Dave closed the empty space beside him now, leaning down and peering over Hal's shoulder at the screen. He was close enough for the engineer to breathe in his scent – _He smells like something foresty, musky, way too masculine_ – and Hal felt faintly embarrassed at even noticing.

Endless rows of numbers stared back at the partners from the screen, daring the duo to decipher their secrets. Dave frowned.

"What is all this?"

Hal pushed his slipping glasses back up his nose. "These are account invoices from an engineering firm in Houston, Omnitech. Their two primary modes of business are oil refinery and application, and military contracts." He switched to a new window. "Here's their budget payout for the past year. Everything seems steady up until about a month ago." He highlighted a section of the chart onscreen. "Their spending suddenly ratchets up here, and there's nothing in their project folders or current contracts to justify the increase in expenditures."

"Maybe they have a few plans they want to keep quiet."

"That's just it, Dave – what are they hiding? I looked through their communications records, see-" he clicked on another window, "-and about two months ago they were in contact with an entity called 'Blue Star.' There're no records of Blue Star anywhere I can find, and believe me I've looked; I think it's some sort of front or dummy corporation."

"So what did this Blue Star want?"

"I'm not completely sure. The firm erased almost all documentation of contact with them. However, there are traces of some sort of purchase. They bought something from Blue Star, Dave – for a hefty price – and then one month later their spending shoots through the roof with nothing to justify it."

Dave looked sharply at the engineer. "You think Blue Star has something to do with Metal Gear."

Hal nodded, pleased the soldier had caught on.

Dave straightened back up. "There's not enough evidence. We can't just run in on your suspicions alone; that'd be stupid. For all we know, they're working on a new stealth plane, not a nuclear platform," he said harshly.

The words stung, and Hal blinked rapidly; _Did I do something wrong?_ "I- I know. I'm going to keep digging. I just, um, wanted to give you an update, you know, let you know what we might be doing soon."

Dave was already heading back to the kitchen; he gave a noncommittal grunt. Hal returned his eyes to the laptop, feeling a little dejected.

"Hal?" Dave turned back, looking uncomfortable and running a hand through his hair. "Thanks. You're- you're doing good." He held Hal's gaze a moment, and swiftly stepped back through the doorway.

In the empty room, Hal flushed a bright red.

* * *

_Philanthropy – Alaska – Week 3, Day 3_

Dave pulled himself up one last time, the hard muscles in his arms contracting with a familiar burn, and slowly lowered himself back to the ground. He grabbed the dingy towel and swiped it over the bar above the doorway, wiping it clean of sweat. He'd spent an extra hour on his workout this morning since, he'd noticed, he had an audience. He could imagine Frank – _Not that ninja-freak, the real Frank_ – chiding him for his vanity, or pride, or whatever the hell it was.

"I'm surprised you don't pull the whole thing down." Hal stood behind him, watching with interest.

The soldier shot him a glare, rolling his shoulders and stretching. "I've been doing this everyday for almost eight years. It's not gonna come off." He wondered when the last time was the engineer had worked up a sweat as he swung the towel around his neck and padded into the kitchen, barefoot. The engineer followed.

"I'm tracing where they're wiring the funds. The majority is going out of state, but I'm not sure where yet. The program I've got running will take a while to compile all the data."

Dave grunted and opened the fridge. The last bottle of vodka was tempting, but the past few months had made the oblivion offered by alcohol lose its appeal. He already had enough voices and memories in his head without the need for more spirits, literal or figurative. Instead he pulled out a carton of orange juice and took a swig right from the container.

Hal made a face. "You know, I'm living here too now. You should use a glass."

Dave rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to get you sick – remember? Or do _you_ have some disease I should know about?"

Hal quickly shook his head. "I just… nevermind."

Dave looked at him. Even after Meryl's brief stay, he still found it strange to share his house with another person. _Although,_ he reflected, _it won't be for much longer._ Even as Hal had unpacked his laptops and cords and accessories, he had been steadily putting away his own gear, selecting what would be useful in his new life and bundling away what he could leave behind.

He'd sold the dogs the day after Hal moved in. They had all gone to one owner, which was good – separating the mush pack would have destroyed the animals' spirits. As he'd watched them go, face hard, he'd felt Hal's eyes on him, and he'd nodded solemnly to the engineer, and they both knew in that moment that Philanthropy was _real_.

He couldn't bring himself to sell the house. Not yet. For ten years it had been his refuge, and too many memories – good and bad – were locked away within its walls.

And now he was leaving. Well, he would be soon, once Hal found whatever this Omnitech was hiding. A decade of cold solitude, broken by 'one last mission' and revelation and ending now with the unsteady promise of safehouses and infiltration and impermanence.

And companionship.

He'd never admit it, but that was what hurt the most when Meryl left. _I want to enjoy life now_, he remembered telling her; _I don't want to live for the past_. But she had been unable to let go of their time in Shadow Moses. She still saw him as a _hero_, as an idol, and refused to see just… Dave. Most of the time she still called him Snake, and he didn't want the burden of that name outside the battlefield anymore, not with someone he felt so strongly for.

So she'd left, and once more all the warmth had seeped out of his life. The spectre of despair had been close; it'd have been so easy to return to the bottle and drink away his days in the haze of alcohol. He'd raged at Meryl, at himself, at the world, for teasing him with the promise of change and then jerking it back out of reach like some schoolyard bully. He was just a soldier after all, a tool, and one without a use.

But before he could get started anew on his downward spiral, a letter had arrived for him, like the answer to prayers he didn't know he'd whispered. An idea, a hope, a _purpose_, all offered by a skinny otaku who knew nothing about battle and everything about sorrow. A strange savior indeed.

Hal rubbed his hands together, shivering a bit. Even the thick turtleneck sweater wasn't enough to keep his lean frame completely warm.

Dave sighed. "You should put on more clothes, Hal."

Hal tilted his head, smiling wanly. "Says the shirtless, barefoot man."

"Yeah, but I've been keeping warm." He ran the towel down his arms and chest, sweeping up the last droplets of sweat. "Maybe you should do the same. Put some muscle on you."

Panic briefly flitted across Hal's features. "N-no Dave – I'm not much of an athlete. I'm all brains, not muscle."

Dave smirked. "Why not both?"

Hal avoided his gaze. "I'm not like you. I'm not good at physical stuff. That's why I want you – um, I mean why I asked you to be the brawn. Well, I guess not really the _brawn_, since you'll be sneaking and avoiding fights most of the time…" He kept his eyes on the floor, rambling.

Dave nodded. _Self-confidence – he needs to work on that_. "But you're the other end of this operation, Hal," he interrupted. He placed his hands on the engineer's shoulders and squeezed, trying to instill some measure of confidence in the slighter man. He looked pointedly at Hal. "Both of us make this team. We do this together."

The tech looked up at him, face cautious. "Right," he said, slowly. He reached past Dave and grabbed the juice, contemplated a moment, and, looking Dave in the eye, took a long drink, finishing it off.

Dave grinned. "Not so bad, was it?" He clapped Hal on the back, grin widening as the engineer coughed. "We'll have to share more than just juice. On the battlefield, you share your resources with your teammates – ammo, food, anything to survive."

"But I'm not going to be on the battlefield, Dave – that's the whole point!"

"Yeah, but we're still partners. We support each other however we can." The grin turned sly. "You get to buy the juice next time, though."

This time Hal rolled his eyes. "You know," he said, setting the empty carton in the trash bin, "watching your workout has made me think about the kinds of things you'll be up against when we get started. While I'm waiting for the data to come through, maybe I can take a look at some of your equipment – see if I can make any improvements for you."

Dave – _Snake_ – could see the advantage in that. "I'll bring some pieces to you. We'll need to keep stealth, not raw firepower, in mind."

Hal smiled. "Great! I'll get started right away."

He watched him leave the kitchen. Three weeks together, and the engineer didn't look at him with hesitation, or unbridled idolatry, or worse, fear. He just called him _Dave_. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so… free.

* * *

_Philanthropy – Alaska – Week 4, Day 2_

Hal approached his partner, who lay sprawled across the maroon couch that dominated the den, staring at the television with interest. One of the first things Hal had contributed to the household was repairing the antenna to receive cable. Though "repair" might be better described as "completely remodel" and "receive" as "pirate."

Some man with a beret and a walrus mustache was chattering about exploding water heaters, punctuated by gratuitous pyrotechnics. And yes, that was definitely a subtle smile on the soldier's usually stony face. Hal found himself smiling too. The past month had provided a first-hand education in the moods of Dave. He wasn't sure where exactly he fell on the bell-curve, but he felt he was bringing his grade up at least past average. He made a note to remember what that program was and "acquire" it for the soldier later.

He knelt in front of the screen, blocking the view. Green eyes blinked, refocused, and settled on him, gaze piercing. The couch creaked slightly as his partner sat up. "Something you need?"

Hal held up a bundle of fabric and placed it on the soldier's lap. "I thought, since the M9 modification went so well, that I could make a few alterations to your sneaking suit." He leaned over, eyes gleaming and hands flitting across the smooth cloth as he pointed out the adjustments. "I stripped the old insulation and added a new lining on the interior; it'll help keep your body at a constant temperature and mask any heat you give off. It still absorbs liquid like before, so you shouldn't worry about getting wet or sweating too much. The suit'll fit more snugly, though, so you'll have to get used to that." He held up the material. "The new lining meant I could get rid of the thermal vest. The suit is just one whole piece now and so I've added a harness for weapon and storage compartments." He ran his fingers over the bands that fit across the torso.

Dave pushed Hal's hands out of the way and lifted the suit up. His eyes roamed over it critically, lingering on the abundant straps. Finally, he looked up at his partner, tugged one of the straps, and quirked his eyebrow. "…Didn't know you had that kind of taste, Hal."

"D-Dave!" Hal sputtered, face instantly turning beet-red. He ducked his head and stared at the floor, missing the soldier's smirk.

He couldn't meet Dave's eyes for the rest of the day.

* * *

_Philanthropy – Alaska – Week 4, Day 5_

Dave turned the volume up a little; the famous line was coming up. Hal sat cross-legged next to him on the couch, munching on the leftover popcorn and completely engrossed in the film.

He found it surprising that the tech had never seen the movie before. _Then again_, he thought, _maybe his obsession with Japanese robots blinded him to American visions of them_.

The television provided the only light, bathing them in an eerie glow. Dave watched Hal out of the corner of his eye, finding his reactions more interesting than the oft-seen movie. He noted how the engineer's back and shoulders tensed and relaxed with the music cues. His gray eyes widened at every action scene, the flutter of his pulse at his neck speeding up. He licked his lips when things seemed to be going poorly for the heroine, slightly chewing on the bottom one when things got really bad, and the sliver of white teeth glinted in the light.

Dave realized Hal knew nothing about fighting or killing. It was never like in movies, or in those animes he tried to talk to Dave about. But he saw how the engineer invested his care and emotion in the fighters on the screen, and felt a small smile tug at his own lips when he thought Hal might show the same for him when they started their own missions.

He was used to feeling nothing for the person at the end of his radio or codec. But now… Now that dead, detached apathy had been supplanted by an awkward, blooming friendship.

Hal's face positively lit up when the lead climbed inside the cargo loader and faced down the monster with a fierce roar. _"Get away from her you bitch!"_

For one night, they could forget Metal Gear was the monster.

* * *

_Philanthropy – Alaska – Week 5, Day 1_

"Michigan! It's in northern Michigan!"

Hal beamed at his partner, thrusting printouts of facility maps and industrial specs into his arms. "The Omnitech headquarters outsourced their development to a Michigan branch of the organization. It's located miles away from the closest town – where better to send your controversial projects than to the middle of nowhere across the country?" He paused for breath, looking pointedly at the soldier. "The paperwork for this branch was buried under multiple layers of subsidiaries and ghost corporations too. _Something_ must be going on there, Dave."

He put as much confidence as he could on his face, radiating certainty, willing the soldier to agree with him.

Dave looked at him long and carefully. "Is there anything more?"

Hal met his glance with full force. "Yes. I found a batch of statements about supplies heading to the facility for the past few weeks. There are parts scattered in different inventory lists that match up with what you need to build Rex. I made sure those parts were very particular, Dave."

Hal's eyes clouded, voice dropping low, the elation at cracking the mystery fading slowly to grief. "There are too many parts listed to just be a coincidence. And enough have been sent already to make a somewhat workable model." He grimaced, shame spreading through him like an insidious weed.

Dave's face softened. "All right. If you think you've got enough data to warrant a field operation now, Hal, I'll trust you."

He nodded soberly. "I do." He tightened his jaw, resolute. "Our first mission will start here. We need to obtain on-sight evidence that Rex is being developed in this facility. Then we can disseminate that information to the public, expose the corporation, and the government should move in from there." He smiled bleakly. "We'll be the whistle-blowers, in a way."

He felt the knot forming in his stomach, threatening to eat away at him. _This is it. The real beginning. Everything starts now._

Dave sifted through the papers. "We'll need to plan the infiltration carefully. I'll study the facility; you concentrate on getting us to Michigan."

"Can do."

He marched back to the laptops, gave the window a cursory glance. With grim determination, he settled in for another long hacking session. _This is my purpose now – I can start to make amends. _

* * *

_Philanthropy – Alaska – Week 5, Day 7_

Dave stood back as Hal mounted the steps up to the private charter plane at the Fairfield airport. He watched as the baggage handlers placed their cases and bags into the belly of the craft, glaring at them menacingly. After one handler had accidentally dropped a case (_They're lucky it was filled with everyday necessities, and not weapons or Hal's computers_), he made sure to stay in the midst of the workers, physically intimidating them. No one else had so much as stacked a container crookedly.

"Roger! You coming?" Hal looked quizzically down at him, tilting his head back toward the plane.

Dave growled softly, irritated at the fake name already. "Yeah, Norm."

He swept his eyes across the tarmac, watched the snow pile a thicker blanket on the ground. He looked back in the direction toward his house, abandoned and silent now in the wilderness, and allowed himself a moment of sentiment. He had no idea when he would return to the city that bore his old friend's name – or if he ever could.

_Goodbye, Fox Alaska._

Goodbye empty bottles and empty promises and empty life.

A tingle ran up his spine as his own words echoed in his head: _"I always work alone."_

Goodbye loneliness.

The tingle turned into a shiver, though he didn't shake. The familiar excitement was starting to grow, anticipation for the mission taking root, but this time it was bolstered with a new kind of optimism.

He swiftly mounted the steps and flashed Hal a brilliant grin. Hal's brows furrowed slightly at the sudden shift in his mood, then he laughed quietly and led the soldier inside.

"Let's get going."


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author's Notes:_** Chapters 2 and 3 are the last parts of this story that I ever wrote, back in 2009.

* * *

_Philanthropy – Northern Michigan – Week 5, Day 7_

Hal stifled a yawn as he concentrated on the road. Thick fog outside clung to the windshield despite the wipers' squeaky efforts to clear it away, and it conspired with condensation inside the car to obscure his vision . He bent over the steering wheel and wiped fruitlessly at the glass, making a glossy smear, and he sighed in frustration.

"Spit on your hand first. It'll help with the inside."

Hal blearily looked over at his partner in the passenger seat; he'd thought Dave was asleep. The soldier showed no sign that he had spoken, or that he was even awake: his eyes were closed, head tilted back against the seat, taking slow even breaths.

The words took a moment to register through his drowsiness. "That's disgusting, Dave."

Without warning the soldier brought his hand up to his mouth and leaned past the startled engineer, who instinctively tried to move out of the way and ended up swerving into the other lane Dave quickly swiped his hand over the window as Hal shoved him back.

"Dave, what the hell are you doing?!" he shouted, heart pounding, the sudden surge of adrenaline galvanizing him into wakefulness as he wrestled the car back under control. "It's hard enough to drive at two in the morning without you trying to take over!" He rubbed one of his tired eyes and resettled his glasses. "I mean, I can hardly see…"

He trailed off as he realized there was a perfectly clear circle of vision in front of him.

Dave grunted and settled back into his seat.

_Well, I guess that's a neat trick to remember_, Hal thought as he gripped the wheel.

The plane ride had been more exhausting than he'd anticipated, with each gust of wind rocking the little craft violently and leaving him gripping the armrests in terror. Once they landed – _Sweet ground!_ – Dave had unpacked the plane himself while the car was brought to the tarmac. He'd watched as the soldier stored all their gear in the trunk and backseat with quick efficiency, reminding Hal of some obscure game of Tetris.

He had been regretting his offer to drive, but now his blood roared from the fright Dave gave him, and he resolved to get them to their new safehouse in one piece.

Half an hour later, energy depleted and eyes bloodshot, he pulled the car into the apartment parking lot. The building looked like it was eighty years old and thinking about collapsing. Broad swatches of paint peeled off the walls, revealing numerous coats beneath. Iron bars covered the balconies, the once-artistic swirls of metal corroded into gnarls of rust, and the intricate molding along the roof was cracked and broken. Hal got the impression of a cantankerous old woman stubbornly clinging to broken antiques as he scanned the outside.

"Well, it looked better in the pictures online," he mumbled apologetically, hoping the soldier wouldn't be too aggravated at the less-than-stellar accommodation.

Dave rolled his eyes. "I've stayed in worse. Let's just get inside."

Hal moved to the back of the car and picked up a few bags; Dave loaded most of the trunk's contents on his back. Together they trudged up the stairs to the third floor and paused outside their room while Hal searched for the key. The landlord said he'd leave it in the frame above the door, and indeed he found a dull gold key there, but when he turned it in the knob the door refused to budge.

"Dammit," he groaned, wiggling the key furiously.

"Here, let me," Dave said, pushing Hal out of the way. He watched as Dave flipped open a pocketknife and worked a blade into the keyhole. A moment later, the door swung open.

"I thought only Scouts carried pocketknives," Hal remarked as he started to move inside.

"Wait," Dave growled, yanking back on his collar. He tucked the knife away and slipped out the M9.

…_Wait, where was he keeping that? Did he have that on the plan_e _?_ Hal wondered sleepily as the soldier crouched and slipped inside the door. A few seconds later, Dave returned and gestured for him to come inside.

Hal flipped on the light switch and was greeted with a dingy, beige colored room. As the landlord had promised, the studio apartment was furnished: a table and a chair sat in the middle of the kitchen at the back, and a mattress rested on the floor in the area set aside as a bedroom on the left. _Should have expected as much – or rather, not as much_, he thought ruefully.

He placed his bags on the floor next to the entryway and looked around at the room, spinning slowly in place. Dave set his cargo down carefully. "I'll get the rest," he heard the soldier grumble as he headed back to the car. Hal nodded, still examining their new home.

_No, not home,_ he corrected himself. _There's no home anymore. Just me and Dave._

The one light on the ceiling was almost bright enough to completely illuminate the small apartment. The carpet was threadbare, but at least it was free of any disturbing stains. The empty space meant there would be enough room to set up all his monitoring equipment. One window and one door minimized entry risk. All in all, they'd be cramped, but for a first safehouse things could be worse.

"Is that all of it?" Hal asked when Dave returned and set down the rest of their bags.

The soldier grunted; he took that to be a yes. Satisfied with their new base, relieved that the trip was over, Hal rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses and collapsed in the single chair.

"Never was a Scout."

"Huh?" Hal blinked and jerked his head up; had he just nodded off right there at the table? "Sorry, what'd you say?"

Dave moved over to him and peered at him closely. "Come on, you need to get to sleep."

"No, gotta… make… safe here…" Hal slurred, head dipping down again.

"Don't make me carry you," he heard as he felt a strong arm wrap around his shoulder. He stumbled along as he felt the arm pull, and eventually tripped and landed on something springy. A brief moment of dizziness was all he remembered before he finally passed out.

* * *

Dave looked down, slightly amused, at the engineer fast asleep on the bare mattress. He kneeled and pried off the tech's shoes, careful not to wake him. He then moved over to one of his larger packs and dug inside, removed a thick blanket, and laid it over his partner.

He'd seen Hal stay up until all hours of the morning before, sometimes foregoing sleep altogether in order to finish cracking a website or code data. In that respect, this was something of an early bedtime for the scientist. He must have been more stressed than he'd let on.

_Looks so peaceful asleep_.

He watched as Hal sighed and burrowed into the cover. His color was starting to return; all through the flight he'd been white as a sheet, and he'd remained pale and tense as he drove the empty roads to this little suburb. Now he was relaxed, face smooth, eyes firmly shut.

Dave realized he should remove Hal's glasses before he turned over and crushed them. He plucked them off and, not knowing where else to put them, set them on the table.

On sudden impulse, he picked them back up and held them up to his own eyes. The apartment instantly blurred, becoming a dull brown haze punctuated with dark bulky objects. He quickly pulled them off, grateful for his own perfect vision. _New frames,_ he noticed for the first time as he set them down again, remembering the old circular glasses Hal had when they initially met. _These are better_, he decided, _make him look less like an owl._ _Make him look stronger, make you really notice his eyes…_

His movements stilled as he replayed his thoughts and cringed.

_Christ. Must be more tired than I realized._

He flung the glasses back on the table and rooted around in his bags again. He pulled out a pair of crude motion sensor alarms; he hooked one by the doorway and one against the lone window in the kitchen. He unpacked a few weapons – a knife, a couple of pistols – and stashed them strategically around the apartment: under the sink in the kitchen, at the back of the toilet in the bathroom, behind the doorway. He found a wooden pole next to the refrigerator and he wedged it above the window, locking it in place. He also maneuvered the chair under the doorknob. He doubted these simple defenses would do any good against a serious intrusion, but he was fairly confident they wouldn't face any attacks here; secrecy was their best security, and Hal had assured him that no one knew where they were.

Satisfied, he took out another blanket and laid it on the floor. He kicked off his boots and stripped off his shirt, rolled it into a ball as a makeshift pillow. He flicked off the lights, tucked the M9 next to him, and settled in amidst the unpacked luggage.

* * *

_Philanthropy – Northern Michigan – Week 6, Day 1_

He woke a few hours later, the thin pale light shining through the window onto his face rousing him from dreamless sleep. As always, soldier's instincts kicking in, he took stock of his surroundings before he moved or even opened his eyes: cold air, hard ground, sounds of light snoring a few feet away. _Michigan. Apartment. Hal._

_Huh. First night down_, he mused, rising and stretching, popping various joints in his neck and back. After visiting the restroom, he tugged the fridge open, hoping the landlord had provided food as well as shelter. No such luck.

With a growl, he resigned himself to starting his morning routine on an empty stomach. Sit-ups and squats and push-ups were simple; for free weights he just used two of the heavier bags; pull-ups were a bit more difficult, and he had to worm his fingers over the bathroom door frame to get a good grip. After an hour of training he stopped, feeling more at home with his muscles burning, alert and ready. Hal, he noticed, slept through his entire work-out.

Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he dug a bar of soap out of one of the bags and headed into the bathroom. _Shit_, he thought, noticing the distinct lack of a shower curtain. He growled and twisted the nozzle to face the cheap tiled wall, away from the floor, and hoped he wouldn't make too much mess .

The hot water felt good, soothing the sore spots in his back from the uncomfortable floor. He rested his head against the wall, letting the stream seep into his dark hair. He closed his eyes, relaxed and calm, and let his mind wander.

_Need more smokes. And food. Have to get some real food. Steak. Eggs. Stuff that'll put some meat on his bones._

He realized he was thinking about his partner. _No, he's not just that anymore now, is he? He's a_… Could he admit it? After Big Boss's lies and Roy's secrets and Frank's deaths, even after the disastrous fling with Meryl, he'd wondered if he'd ever be able to have someone close again.

_Friend_.

So. He had a friend. That was good, wasn't it ?

Even if they didn't have much in common, they shared a goal. He could talk to his partner without invoking military protocol. He didn't have to always be _Snake_ first and _David_ second with him. And in the last few months, Hal'd been the only person who stood by his morals, who gave a shit about what he'd done and how he could fix it. He could put his trust in him, right?

An icy spike of fear dripped down his spine. For how long? How long until Dr. Emmerich turned out like the others, until the engineer somehow betrayed him? How long until the scientist finally saw him for who he really was – a killer, a black-hearted weapon, soulless and nameless and empty?

_"So, where ya goin' Dave?_"

Hal's question on the snowmobile sprang into his mind unbidden, derailing his train of thought.

_To Jupiter_, he answered automatically. He opened his eyes as realization hit him. _We're on a new path in life._ _We're both going to Jupiter, together_. And he barked out a laugh, shaking his head and flinging water droplets everywhere. He picked up the soap and scrubbed viciously, as if trying to rinse away any leftover worries .

Finally, feeling renewed from the shower, he turned the nozzle off and reached for a towel.

Only to find that the bathroom was bare.

"Dammit," he growled. He shook as much water as he could off his body and, seeing no other options, slipped back into his pants from last night. At least now he was clean enough to go buy breakfast.

* * *

Hal woke slowly, groggily, fighting off the moment when he'd have to open his eyes and face the new day. He turned his head into the blanket and willed the daylight to go away.

_Wait a minute_. He stiffened, mind sweeping away the haze of sleep as he gripped the cover closer. _Where did this come from?_ He reluctantly opened his eyes and found himself on the mattress in the safehouse, wrapped up in a deep green blanket. He didn't remember packing any blankets, just the computers and the equipment they'd need for missions and a few personal items. For that matter, he didn't remember getting to the mattress in the first place.

_Dave must have put me in_, he realized with embarrassment. _Oh god – where is he?_ He sat up suddenly and threw the cover back, scanning the room for his partner; unfortunately, all he could see was a fuzzy blur. _Where are my glasses?!_

He took a deep breath before panic overwhelmed him. In the still apartment air, he heard the steady stream of a shower running; Dave must be in the bathroom. They were safe.

He stood and gingerly poked around their belongings, searching for the familiar glint of his lenses. He finally spotted them on the table and slipped them on with great relief. Sighing, he returned to the mattress and picked up the blanket. He recognized it; it was the one Dave had kept on the back of his couch. Of all the blankets in Dave's house, he'd had a fondness for that one. It was that perfect combination of warmth and fuzziness without being scratchy. He liked to toss it around his shoulders whenever they watched movies together late at night, trying to keep in what little heat he could produce.

As he stood there contemplating his blanket, he heard the squeak of the shower being turned off. He started folding the cover, straightening up. A few moments later the bathroom door opened.

"Good morning, Dave," he said, voice still low and deep from sleep, looking up at his partner, who looked startled at his greeting .

His partner – who stood wearing just a pair of jeans. Damp jeans. Clinging to him tightly, water bleeding through. Water dripping off the rest of him, off his hair and down his chest…

Hal quickly looked away before his face heated up any further. He saw Dave giving him a strange look out of the corner of his eye.

"Morning… Hal," he said, frowning a little and turning toward the luggage.

"So… no towels?" Hal asked, for lack of a better thing to say.

The soldier shook his head, causing more water to run down his shoulders. "Nope. No shower curtain either, so be careful not to slip in there."

"I see," he said. "Looks like we've got a few things to buy, then." He looked down at the green cover in his hands, remembered what he was going to ask before Dave… distracted him. "Hey, um, did you bring this?" He lifted the blanket up a little.

Dave glanced back. "Yeah," he said simply.

"Oh." He grinned as a thought struck him. "It's supposed to be towels, though. You're always supposed to bring a towel."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's the most useful thing in the galaxy. Practical _and_ psychological value. Guess we failed that part."

Dave continued to scowl at him.

"…Er, nevermind. Do you always bring blankets when you travel?"

The soldier nodded. "Lots of uses for a blanket – warmth, bedding, cover, you can strip it for bandage material, tie it to lug around equipment, make a short rope, muffle noise. Even use it as a towel," he finished, smirking slightly. "Besides, you like that one, don't you?"

"Oh! I, ah, guess so. Didn't think you'd noticed," Hal said, setting the folded piece on top of the mattress.

Dave grunted. "Still not as good as boxes , though. I'll need to get a couple good ones out here." Hal watched as he picked up the other blanket off the floor and finished drying off with it. "I'm heading out; gonna get some food and other things we need. You can get your equipment up and running while I'm gone."

"Where are you going to go?"

"I saw one of those all-purpose stores on the way in. It's a little out of town, but it should have everything we need."

Hal remembered no such place; but then again, he was too busy trying to keep the car between the lines to take in the scenery last night.

"All right. Be careful, Dave," he said as his partner pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and slipped back into his shoes. "Oh, wait a minute," he said, fishing around in one of his bags. He pulled out a wad of bills and handed a few to his partner. "Use cash for now. I don't have our fake accounts set up here yet."

The soldier nodded, slipping the paper into his front pocket.

"And don't forget to get coffee."

Soon after Hal was alone, untangling cords and setting up firewalls and trying very hard not to dwell on the image of Dave fresh out of the shower.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Author's Notes: _**This is the last chapter written for this story. I have no intentions of finishing it at this time. Written in 2009.

* * *

_Philanthropy – Northern Michigan – Week 6, Day 4_

"Ok Dave, I'm ready when you are."

Hal stood behind him, not hovering like an annoying mother bird, but just keeping still, obliged to wait until the soldier set down the pistol.

Dave pushed the freshly assembled gun back to join its sisters in the "cleaned and checked" pile. He'd spent the morning meticulously examining each piece of weaponry: cleaning, reassembling, sighting, reloading, discovering where to store each one and how to draw it out quickly from the harness. Malfunctioning arms were worse than useless on the battlefield; they were a liability, providing a false sense of security until the moment the hammer jammed. Being quick on the draw was important, too: if a gun was tangled in an ill-fitting holster, it could cost precious moments that meant the difference between a downed guard and a piercing siren that alerted twenty more.

He'd spent the last two days wearing Hal's enhanced sneaking suit; he had to learn how to move in this new skin. He used the apartment as best he could as a training ground: crouching low to the floor, hanging from the bathroom doorway, pressing himself flat behind the entry door, rolling across the empty floor. The studio wasn't the most ideal place for learning to maneuver, but he would take what he could get. And as long as he avoided the electronics, Hal was content to let him commandeer the rest of the space.

He was a little surprised at just how quickly he mastered the suit. It was so thin and light, he hardly had to account for it with every swing, twist, or crawl. It was certainly form-fitting, almost to an awkward degree – _Scratch that, _he thought, _it leaves damn well little to the imagination_. He didn't mind, really – he had no issues with how he looked – but it _was_ fun to see how uncomfortable it made Hal, especially when the two of them tried putting on the harness the first time. He almost wished he had a picture of Hal's face that day, to commemorate the new achievement in blushing .

He spun around and rose to his feet, coming eye-to-eye with his partner. Hal's gray eyes were light, shining with eagerness. This close, he could practically _feel_ the engineer thrumming with anticipation.

"Right, why don't you just, um, sit down over here. Away from the weapons ," Hal said, gesturing to a spot next to the laptops.

"Afraid I'll go berserk and shoot you, Hal?" Dave asked wryly.

"Something like that, yes, as a matter of fact," the tech replied, throwing him a snarky grin. He smirked back as he settled against the wall. _Glad he feels confident enough about this_.

"So, um… let me know if anything feels wrong? I'm starting now."

He shut his eyes and listened to the symphony of Hal's fingers on his keyboards. The work was quick and efficient, with short pauses between bursts of frenetic activity as the only measure of time. He waited patiently, concentrating on his own internal state, mindful of any changes that might occur.

_Should have done this while we were still in Alaska,_ he thought detachedly.

After a little while, he _did_ notice a change. A slight tingling sensation spread throughout his body, slowly, and in its wake he felt more alert and vitalized. More than that – all his senses seemed to increase ten-fold. He could feel the uneven wooden grain under the carpet beneath his legs; hear each breath Hal drew next to him; even smell the faint aroma of a cake baking in the apartment above. He felt flooded with strength and stamina, and it took a great deal of his willpower to remain sitting quietly and monitoring himself. So much sensation, so much energy; his blood was singing and he felt absolutely _fantastic_.

A dull chirp echoed in his ears. _Snake, can you hear me?_

He cracked his eyes open, grinned, and answered, _Loud and clear, Otacon – just like before_.

Beside him, Hal laughed in triumph and leaned back in the chair, arms swinging lazily, a wide toothy smile painted across his face.

"You did it, Hal."

"I did," he replied, pushing his glasses back up and looking rather proud. "I've never hacked into nanomachines before, nevermind super-secret legendary soldier nanomachines."

"How'd you do it?"

"Think you can keep up?"

He lifted his brows, surprised at the cocky attitude. "Try me."

Hal sat forward, hands clasped in front of him like he was preparing a lecture. "I used the slight electrical current that everyone generates inside their bodies – you know, from the sodium-potassium exchange? – well, I used it to recharge your nanomachines. You were right – yours did run out of charge right after Shadow Moses, but that just put them in a dormant, receiving state. Once they were fired up again, I hacked into their frequency to eliminate their identification, and I stopped them from sending out data on you to the government, or whoever it was going to before ."

"You did that before anyone could get a lock on where we are?"

"Yes. It takes the nanos a moment to get back online after a charge, so I knocked out the tracer system and rerouted the signal to only broadcast to my computer here." Hal patted the laptop resting in front of him. "They'll function permanently off your own electrical charge now, Dave. Hopefully they should be working like before?" He raised his eyebrows quizzically.

Dave nodded. "Yeah, it feels just like it did in Alaska. I feel like I could go for days without eating or sleeping, or even breathing." He paused, considering. "Actually, it feels more _intense_ than it did the first time."

Hal tilted his head, thinking. "That's not surprising. The nanos are in a direct feedback loop with your body now, with no outside interference. Everything's going straight to you, so that might enhance the effects a bit. I don't think it's anything to worry about; just let me know if you want me to adjust anything." He frowned a little. "Actually, I guess I'll need to learn exactly how your nanos work. I understand the basic functions, but I should spend some time with a biology textbook to really figure out which chemicals in your body do what."

"You better not end up poisoning me, Hal. That'd put a big dent in our operation."

"Don't worry, I'll just let them do their own thing for now."

Dave stood abruptly and reached his arms behind his head, relishing the long muscle stretch, and used the momentum as his arms fell back to clap a hand around Hal's shoulders. "All this trouble just to get my nanos to recharge my Codec, h uh?**"**

Hal turned to face him, glasses glinting. "Yeah. The Codec will be the primary way we talk to each other on missions, so it's important to get it working again. But rebooting your nanos had some nice benefits on the side too, right?"

"Side benefits, hmm?" he mused, glancing down at the tech. _You might be too smart for your own good_, _but you've got a hell of a grin when things go right_. "I'd say so."

"No strange urges?"

"No Hal, not unless you count wanting to burn some of this energy off and run around outside for twenty miles." _Or work out these knots in your shoulders – geez, are you always this tense? _He could feel how strained the muscles were under the engineer's white lab coat and sweater .

"Good; I was worried there might be some 'Kill all ArmsTech employees' order leftover in the nanos."

"I don't have any compulsion to do something like that. Besides, you're not an employee there anymore, are you?" He squeezed the engineer's shoulders. "You're with me."

Hal flushed, breezy manner slipping away like sand through a sieve. "R-right."

He moved behind his partner and placed both hands on the tech's shoulders. "Why the hell are you so tense, Hal?"

The flush deepened and Hal stiffened. "I- I always get a little nervous when I'm hacking into something. You know, the thrill of getting caught and all that. It's like watching horror movies – it's fun and scary all at the same time." He tried to grin like before, easy and confident, but the smile faltered a little too quickly.

Dave squeezed harder, pressing his fingers into the too-tight muscles. "No, I've watched you at the computers before; you've never been this worked up. What's wrong?" And the soldier marveled at how much he cared about the answer.

Hal drew a shaky breath. "Well, I'm… I'm also worried about tomorrow. What if we screw up? What if I got the wrong information? Or what if- what if you get hurt?"

Dave moved his hands across Hal's shoulders, rubbing hard into the knots. "You need to focus, Hal, but you also have to stay relaxed. Being tense like this will only hurt you when we're doing the mission. You have to be ready for whatever comes up, and if you're too busy thinking about everything that could go wrong, something _will_ happen and you won't be able to handle it." He punctuated his point by squeezing harder. "You need to loosen up."

Hal dropped his head down and leaned forward a bit, giving his partner more access to his back. "S- sorry, Dave. I've just gotten so anxious in the last few days…" He trailed off, eyes slipping shut.

The soldier grunted and continued, moving his hands to the new territory and finding it just as hard and tense as the shoulders. He worked quickly, never lingering too long in one spot, rubbing until the muscles loosened. Hal arched up subtly into his touch, and Dave could hear his breathing slow. _Good. He has to relax, or the stress tomorrow will kill him._

He pushed gently and Hal obliged, leaning forward even more. Dave's hands wandered lower as he bent over the back of the chair, working out the knots in his partner's lower back. Hal made a low noise, like a groan, and he took that as a sign to keep pressing there. "You know, it can't be good for you sitting in a chair all day," he said quietly. "When we're done with this mission, I'm going to teach you some self-defense. Something that'll help get you moving." _Something that'll help keep you safe_, he added in his head. He saw Hal nod vaguely.

He moved his hands up the lean back, across the shoulders, and out along the hacker's right arm. He pushed his fingers into the upper arm, feeling the subtle lines of muscle, assessing how intense he should plan any workouts for his partner. Hal was definitely not very strong, but he could probably handle some moderate training.

He mirrored his movement on the other arm. _This would be easier if he wasn't wearing that jacket. And the sweater's too thick for me to really do this properly._ He tried to imagine what Hal's bare skin would feel like …

His hands stilled.

Hal drew a deep breath and straightened back up, taking Dave's pause as a signal that the massage was over. "Thanks Dave. I guess I really needed that." He looked over at the soldier, expression unguarded and sincere, and smiled gently. "I'll do my best tomorrow. You won't have to worry about me."

Dave pulled his hands back, keeping his face carefully bl ank .

Hal turned to the computers. "Let's try some exercises before we call it a day, huh?"

He carefully pushed his thoughts about Hal aside and cleared his mind, soldier mode snapping in place. Breathing deeply, he readied himself for whatever the engineer saw fit to put him through.

* * *

_Philanthropy – Northern Michigan – Week 6, Day 5_

"No, David, I insist. Please." Hal gestured to the mattress, with the green blanket now tucked into the bottom corners. "Tonight is the big night. You need all the advantages you can get if you're going to be at your best out there."

"Hal, I know what I'm capable of. And I don't need to sleep in a fluffy, warm bed in order to do my job." Dave emphasized this with a glare.

The engineer didn't flinch, for once. He was resolute in the belief that Dave needed to rest for the day on something that was _not_ a cold, hard floor. "You're going to be the one out there risking your neck; I'll be tucked away here. It won't hurt me for one night – er, day – to sleep on the ground. I would have been happy to switch off earlier, you know," he added, leaning over and pulling down the blanket.

"Hal, you're being ridic-"

"_Snake_, I'm not going to argue." He narrowed his eyes and marched behind the soldier. With a boldness that surprised them both, he placed both hands on Dave's back and pushed him forward toward the mattress.

Dave started to twist around, mouth open to make some sarcastic comment, but Hal just tightened his grip and _shoved_. His partner tumbled less than gracefully onto the springs.

"See? You're already in. Now I'll just get settled here…" He dropped to the floor and starting arranging the other blanket.

Dave sighed and shook his head, giving in to the engineer's wishes, then stripped off the black tee-shirt and jeans he'd been lounging in and threw them next to the cheap bed. Clad only in his boxers, he pulled the blanket up. "All right, _Otacon_, you have everything ready to go, right?"

Hal caught the emphasis on his own code name, and he nodded. "The alarm's set for eleven tonight. Your gear's laid out, and all my programs are on standby." He grabbed one of the new towels from the bathroom and hung it across the window, attempting to block out as much sunlight as possible.

"Good. Get some rest, too. I'm not the only one working tonight."

Convinced that the room was as dark as it could possibly be in the middle of the day, Hal headed for the bathroom. He didn't share the soldier's lack of shame at ridding himself of clothes, and he stripped his own off out of sight of his partner. Wearing his comfy pajama pants, he laid down on the ground and pulled his own cover up.

After a while, he began to wonder if this was such a good idea.

_Wow. This is really uncomfortable._ He wiggled and shifted, trying to find a position that didn't feel like he was lying on a cold, stiff board. _Which I am, really. How does Dave do it? How does his __**back**__ do it?_

He reached around and tried to rub at his, which reminded him of Dave's impromptu massage yesterday. The soldier's hands had felt amazing, rubbing out his tension and leaving him feeling like a jellyfish. He was still more relaxed now than he had been since before they left Alaska. It had been so easy to let his anxiety float away as Dave worked lower and lower. He could almost feel the soldier's strong hands on him now, squeezing and tightening and running up and down and along his arms… _I wonder if his hands are rough. They probably are, with all the training and fighting… _

He reeled in his thoughts before they proceeded any further down that line.

_Sleep, Hal, sleep. Don't get distracted. You have a big night ahead. You need to be awake and alert for it. Dave's counting on you. __**You're**__ counting on you. The world is counting on you._

He kicked his legs out, turned on his side, used his arm as a pillow.

_This is the right thing you're doing. Metal Gear shouldn't exist in this world. You have to fix your mistake._

He mulled over the plans to distribute the evidence from tonight's mission as he rolled over onto his stomach, tangling his feet in the blanket.

_Photos to major news outlets. Anonymous detailed reports from "concerned employees." And everything duplicated and released online. Lord knows how fast news gets around on the Internet._

He flipped back onto his back, huffing and pushing the blanket aside.

_And when we're done, if this mission is a success – __**when**__ this mission is a success – maybe I'll treat myself to something. A reward; no, an incentive, to keep up this new life. Maybe I'll download an anime show?_

He thought about his old favorites: _Gundam, Macross, Robotech…_

_Nah, something different. Maybe one more character focused?_

_Escaflowne, maybe. Zone of the Enders. Or Patlabor. Hmm, I can definitely relate more to the "fighting crime" aspect now._

He took up the new genre and ran through a list of police and detective animes, discarding most as too boring.

_Hmm, what about FAKE?_

And his thoughts froze for a moment. Sure, it was a police anime. It was even a buddy-story, with two partners working for the greater good. Two male partners, who became lovers.

_Wait, why am I even considering that one? I usually don't go for __**that**__ kind of show. No robots, no mechs, just two guys working together, becoming friends, becoming more-than- fr ien_ds _…_

He groaned and turned to his side again, willing his brain to shut up.

"Hal, for god's sake, just get in the damn bed."

Dave's growl startled him, and he warily sat up and peered toward the mattress. "What?"

"You've been tossing and turning for half an hour. Just get over here and go to sleep."

He felt his heart start to beat faster. "But- but you need to sleep in it tonight. I mean today."

"There's enough room. We're two adults here – we can share a bed. And I can't sleep with you making all that racket on the floor, so if you want things to go well then come on and go to sleep."

Hal slowly shuffled over to the mattress; yes, there would be just enough room for the two of them. Dave scooted over to one side and turned, his bare back facing the engineer. Hal carefully slid under the blanket, conscious of the soldier _right there_ and trying not to intrude on his space.

_It's warm here, where Dave was,_ he thought as he let out his breath. He stared at the ceiling, trying very hard to _not_ think about who he was sleeping next to.

Two partners…

"Told you we'd share more than just orange juice," Dave murmured after a moment, voice somewhat low and groggy.

"Yeah," Hal answered, turning on his side too, and felt the heat radiating off Dave's skin onto his own. His heart was racing, but he kept very still, hoping that the lack of movement would calm him down. He had a notion at the back of his mind, something familiar and different and wonderful and terrifying, and this wasn't the time to analyze it. _Tomorrow_, he told himself, _when we're all done and I have time to think. I'll work this out later._

Shortly after, the two partners lay side by side, fast asleep .


End file.
